


Now & Then

by EarnestGirl



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, They Still Find Each Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarnestGirl/pseuds/EarnestGirl
Summary: We know Isak and Even will always find each other.  I wondered what would happen if they didn't find each other until university.  How would they have dealt with their shit? This is about love,  therapy, and relying on friends.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, and in the future, I don't plan to pick a Big Bang for my first fic. I loved writing this and am scared, but psyched to put it out there. Even so, it needs to be said that I have stressed about it. Next time, I'll start with a drabble.
> 
> The first two-thirds of this were betaed by the wonderful kittpurrson. So two-thirds of this have been improved immeasurably by her thoughtful edits and helpful comments. Truly, she is an amazing writer and a spectacular beta. Thank you so much for giving your time and kindness to this endeavor.
> 
> The rest of this mess is my mistake; if it strikes you as poorly written, that's my fault. 
> 
> There is so much amazing writing in this fandom; think of this as a thank you gift.

**NOW**  
**Fredag, October 12, 2018--23:18**

“Fuck.” Isak inhaled deeply, shakily, and the exhale came out as a whispered, “Holy fuck.” He placed his hands on Even’s chest, pushed his body away ever so slightly, and closed his eyes. He was a little shaky, but then again, so was Even. Isak’s fingers slowly fanned across Even’s pecs, and while his breath was actually slowing down, he took some delight in the fact that Even’s nipples were hardening under his t-shirt. Even looked up at Isak and smiled, closed his eyes and with a small shake of his head, leaned his forehead on top of Isak’s head.

“Fuck, Isak, I’ve wanted to do that for a couple of weeks now. You’re gorgeous.”

Isak scoffed, but surged up to kiss Even again, even though he had just gotten his breathing under control. Their lips were wet and greedy and sometimes they missed each other, one mistakenly catching the other’s chin with teeth, or sucking on the skin above the other’s lips. Isak stepped closer to Even and threaded his fingers through Even’s now disheveled hair. As if of their own volition, Isak’s hands started making their way down to the waistband of Even’s jeans. Even, for his part, broke the kiss with a gasp and grabbed Isak’s ass to draw him nearer.

After teasing at waistbands and shuddering breaths got too much, Isak snapped his head back and nearly shouted, “Can we get out of here?”

Even nodded, but then looked up and took a deep breath, his hands moving to grip Isak’s shirt.

“Yes. Do you need to go inside and get anything?”

Isak shook his head, but dug his phone out of his pocket. “Let me just text my friend that I am leaving.” As his fingers flew across the screen, he muttered, “and don’t come over later, bro. You won’t like to hear what’s about to happen.” He chuckled as he typed and Even watched closely. Isak looked up, briefly during his exchange with Jonas, and noticed that Even’s eyes seemed to have shifted slightly, his irises had dilated.

Isak was sliding his phone back into his pocket, when Even looked toward the windows of the house, reacting, perhaps, to a thump from the party inside the house--or was it just a change in music? He seemed to stiffen, suddenly frozen to his spot against the front porch wall, and his eyes were flitting between Isak, the front door, and the windows. After a few seconds, his face transforming suspiciously into panic-mode, Even shook his head, as if trying to shake water out of his ear after swimming.

Isak looked up at Even, a smile spreading across his face. He reached out to drag his fingers down Even’s chest, then left his right hand out, a question in his raised eyebrows.

Even was still frozen, so Isak asked, “Shall we?” and left his hand extended but cocked his head toward the street.

Without warning, Even pushed past Isak, striding as fast as possible. He rubbed his hands down his face and then through his hair as he hit the pavement, and without as much as a look back, hoofed it as fast as he could out of the front garden.

“Even! Where are you going?”

Where the fuck was he going? Why was he leaving? Did Isak do something wrong? Or say something wrong? It couldn’t be that. They had barely spoken.


	2. Before

**2 Months, 14 Days, 9 Hours and 3 Minutes Earlier**

**Søndag, July 29, 2018--14:15**

 

Isak’s phone buzzed on his nightstand; if he kept ignoring texts it was going to vibrate its way off the table and onto the floor.  And the last thing Isak could handle right now is another cracked screen.

He sat up in the bed, and reached over to click on his bedside light.  He smacked the phone to stop it moving and grabbed it, it dawning on him that he totally knows how to handle a cracked screen.  Whatever the fuck is going on with him now is what he really can’t handle. These missed messages don’t lie: two from Sana, six from Mats, one from Eskild and what looks like 7,000 from Jonas. The two from Sana were about the study date he blew off this morning.  She’d be pissed, but would be easy enough to apologize to her since she wasn’t at Friday’s shitshow.  Plus, it was summer and she was basically trying to get a leg up on the rest of the kids at uni. If he were lucky, she would have heard from their friends and might even go easy on him.  He could dream.

Mats would continue to be ignored.

Eskild’s texts could also be ignored, since he had poked his head in a few hours ago, well after he had sent his text, and gasped dramatically, clutching at pearls he was not wearing, and somehow whispered and yelled at the same time, “Thank god you’re alright.  I was worried about you.”  Isak had tried to grunt back in response, “I’m fine.  I’ve been in here since Saturday.”  Eskild’s response suggested that Isak had not been as comprehensible as he had hoped. “That’s OK, baby Jesus.  We’ll talk more later.  When you have given yourself more vocal rest.”  Isak had just grunted back in response and closed his eyes again.  

As for Jonas, well, 7,000 was not quite right, but there were nearly a dozen messages from him starting late Friday night--or, really, early Saturday morning, until about 5 minutes ago.  They ranged from curiosity about Isak’s outburst, to concern about his safety, to letting him know he was on his way upstairs.  

Wait.  What?

He scrolled back.  Jonas’ penultimate text explained that Eskild told him Isak was home and that he was coming over to find out, and here is the exact quote, “what the fuck is wrong with you, Issy.”  And the last one from five, now six, minutes ago, saying he was walking up the stairs and would someone please let him in.

_ Fuck. _  Isak scrubbed his face, pulled on jeans and his trusty Simpsons t-shirt, which was more threadbare than ever, and dashed to the bathroom to try to get the funk out of his breath before talking to Jonas. He tossed his toothbrush into the cup on the sink, smoothed down his shirt, took a deep breath.  

Nothing he had ever done had permanently pissed-off Jonas-- even that time he tried to break him up with Eva. So this was no big deal, Isak tried to convince himself. But while Jonas was not going to disown him, he was definitely going to want to know what was going on.  It was going to be hard to keep the gay thing from him any longer. Isak straightened up and headed to the living room.

“...and then he just bolted out of there,” Jonas said, Eskild responding with tutting sounds. “I mean, we were pretty wasted, which certainly made chasing after him harder, but there was no warning.  Usually he’s grumpy all night or he’s cocky all night.  But one song through karaoke and he was bolting out the door.”

“What?! Isak sang in public?!”  Eskild barked at Jonas just as Isak was rounding the corner.  “I missed it?!”

“No, Es-kild.  I did not sing.  But boy did I get an earful of Vilde.” Isak looked over at Jonas and lifted his chin.  Jonas reached out a fist in response and they knocked knuckles. “Um.  Sorry, Jonas, I just woke up. I just got your text.” He nodded his head sharply and then looked at Jonas, “I hope you haven’t been out here long.”

“Well, Isak, just long enough to tell me that you freaked out during a song and haven’t been seen since.” Eskild turned and walked toward the kitchen, “Karaoke, Isak?  I hoped for some better reason than that. You made us all worry.”  He was in the kitchen before he finished, but Eskild managed to make it loud enough for the whole flat to hear.  Go figure.

Jonas shifted on the couch to look up at Isak.  “Isak.  What the fuck---”

“Tea, Jonas?  Or something else to drink?”  Eskild yelled from the kitchen and Jonas just chuckled a response.  “No, Eskild.  I’m fine.  Thanks.”

Isak could practically hear the shrug in Eskild’s response.  “Suit yourself.”

“Now.  Where was I?”  Jonas looked at Isak who had slumped down on the other end of the couch from him.  

“Isak.  What the fuck?” They said in unison. Jonas smiled, which Isak took as a good sign. He could tell that Jonas’ anger was not deep.

“You were are what the fuck,” Isak mumbled, head cocked to the right. “Is there something more specific you want to ask me?”  

“Don’t be a dick.  Why the fuck did you run out of that party and why the fuck have you ignored everyone?” Jonas’ words were blunt, as usual, and he was keeping his distance, but his eyes were worried.  He had been with Isak through lots of shit already, and, honestly, Isak had helped Jonas through some jams, too.  But Isak was wary; he suddenly wondered if this time it wouldn’t be OK with Jonas.  Had he been a shit friend one too many times?

“Jonas.  I just hate that song.  And I couldn’t sit through everyone caterwauling their way through the night.  OK?”  

“Dude.  Duuude.  _ Thinking Out Loud _ sucks--it’s drivel. But you ran out of there like someone was hurting you.”  He looked back at Isak, held up his hand, and scooped his fingers toward him, like Morpheus in  _ The Matri _ x. “C’mon.  You have more to tell me. Don’t fight it. I was fucking scared, bro. Just talk to me.”

Isak knew this was it.  He had tried to tell Jonas before, but choked.  Once after the big Yakuza fight, when he realized he thought Penetrator Chris was cute.  Once during second year when he had had enough of the talk about girls and pussies and hooking up.  A couple of times last year, when it seemed like everyone had paired up and he was just lonely.  But he was never high enough or brave enough or sure enough of what even to say.  

He knew his mom would freak out and he knew his dad would be... well, useless.  But Jonas was his oldest friend.  He had to do this.  He had to tell someone that wasn’t Eskild or the men of Grindr.  He took a deep breath, but couldn’t quite bring himself to to look Jonas in the eyes.  Instead he looked intently at the TV.  “Look.  The last time I heard that song, I totally freaked out.  Because.  Well.  I was on a first date and had just been gotten off by.  Um.  Well. Not a girl.  And I couldn’t handle it.”

He looked up at Jonas who wasn’t making much of a face, but he did have his eyebrows raised.  He didn’t look surprised, exactly, nor was he impressed.  It was as if he was making mental calculations, going back through the last few weeks. He nodded, but didn’t say anything.  Isak stumbled on, “I was standing in a stairwell in the back of a bar with a dude’s hand down my jeans.  And I felt pathetic.  Like it was so quick for me to get off but at the same time I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.  Not even the dude. I told him to stop and he did, but I just bolted.”  Isak swallowed. “I had to run through a bar with that fucking song playing at full volume to get out.”

Jonas was nodding, and turned his body to more properly face Isak.  He didn’t say anything, though; apparently Isak was supposed to keep talking.

“I spent the rest of the weekend trying to figure out why I hated getting this thing I thought I wanted.” Isak still didn’t really know. Why was he ashamed of something Eskild was proud of and that no one else seemed to give a shit about, at least about Eskild? 

“Was this dude hot?” Jonas looked directly in Isak’s eyes.  “Like, was he your type, or whatever?” Isak buried his face in his hands, appalled to be talking about it, but pleased that Jonas hadn’t stormed out.

“Dude.  I don’t even know what that is, myself.”

“So.  Are you gay?  Is that what you are trying to tell me? Because, you know, it’s cool. Makes me wonder what the fuck you saw in Sara, though.”

“I’ll wonder that until the day I die, Jonas.”  He snorted. And they laughed together for a moment.

“Issy.  Did he hurt you?  Is that why you ran?”

“Nah.  I just didn’t want to be a guy who met boys on Grindr and then cried when they tried to kiss me.” He looked down at his bare feet and waited for Jonas to say anything.

“Do you like this guy?”

Isak looked up.  “Mats?  No. I mean we hardly talked, but he was my age and he wanted me. So. Yeah.” Isak didn’t say, and  _ I was fucking horny so I went out with the first decent guy who swiped right _ . “He was nice enough.  I just didn’t want it to be like that.  Hidden in an alley.”

Jonas nodded.  “How long have you known?”

Shit.  Isak was dreading this question.  “I don’t know.  A couple of years, maybe?”

“Years!”  Jonas reached out to cuff Isak around the ear.  “Goddamnit.  This is my fucking job.  I’m your best friend.  Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

He was about to yell back, _ fuck you, it’s hard alright _ , when the drive just left him.  He slumped even lower on the couch.  “I was fucking embarrassed.”  Again, he scrubbed his face with his hands and then ran them through his hair.  It was as though he had developed hand-based stalling techniques on the spot. “Look, when I first figured it out, my parents were fucked, I didn’t know where I was living, I didn’t feel gay, you know, like Eskild, and I was hoping to still have friends to buy me beer.”  

Jonas snorted at that, and kept nodding, but, again, didn’t say anything.  He might not be mad anymore, but he was forcing Isak to do all the work.  “And I kept not telling you and years went by. I didn’t know how to tell you after all the talking about girls.” He shrugged.  “I was scared, I guess.  That you would not hang out with me anymore. I didn’t want to lose anyone else.”

Jonas looked at him for a long time.  Isak thought he might say something,or stand up to leave.  Instead he kept looking at Isak with a small smile.  Then he did, in fact, stand up, and stride toward the TV.  “Dude.  I can handle this. Trust me.”  He looked toward the kitchen.  “Eskild!  You still there? Because I’ll take a Coke if you have one!” He turned back to Isak.  “Let’s play FIFA.  You can tell me which of the guys is cute.”

“No.”

“Yup.  You probably like Theo Walcott.  He’s Eva’s favorite.  Those brown eyes and shit.  Or no?  More a tattoos guy?  Giroud?”  He was happily grabbing the controllers and turning on the TV while Isak buried his face in his hands. “Ooh.  Or maybe you’re more of a man-bun guy. Gareth Bale, perhaps.”

Eskild walked in.  “We’re all out of Coke, boys.  Gonna have to buy them yourselves.” He headed to the door, threw on his coat, blew them kisses, and blew out the door into the Sunday afternoon.

“Hey Isak?

“Yeah.” Isak nodded, but then put up one finger  “Wait.  Don’t ask me about any other guys, I’m not playing with you if you do.”

“Fine.  But Isak?” Jonas threw him a controller.  “Eskild’s not so bad, you know.  I mean.  There are worse people to be like.”

Isak looked up, a little wide-eyed.  How could he have ever thought Jonas would stop liking him? “I know.  And you don’t need to say anything more.  Eskild already gave me the Gay Pride Primer and told me I had to, quote, shut up about everything until I think about what courage it takes to be out all the time to everyone, end-quote.”

Jonas chuckled and started the game; both their heads focused on the screen, like every time before.

“What about James Rodriguez? He’s good-looking.”

 

**3 Days, 8 Hours, 53 Minutes Earlier**

**Tirsdag, October 9, 2018--14:25**

 

“Again?  Damn.  Who is that kid?” Isak blinked a few times. Coming into the coffee shop just around the corner from his next class, was the most gorgeous dude he had ever seen.  

“What, man?  What are you on about?” Mahdi was looking beleaguered, as though his life was one big interruption.  “Here I was, sharing my best flirting story, and you are clearly not paying attention.”  His grin softened the accusation, but Isak felt bad anyway.

“Sorry, bro.  For real.”  He flicked his head toward the guy in line and said, “See that dude?  The tall one with the tall hair?” Mahdi and Jonas looked over and then nodded. “Yeah, well, we’ve been at uni for more than a month.  Last Thursday I saw him for the first time, and now?  I have seen him at least once a day since then.”

Jonas smirked.  “O-Kay.”  He grinned over at Isak who, while trying to project annoyance, was simply staring at the dude.  “Good looking guy, though?”

Isak snorted.  “Shut up.”  He looked immediately down at his shoes, aware that there was not a single interesting thing down there to look at.  Of course Jonas and Mahdi were cool about this Isak-is-Gay thing, and yeah, he was a good looking dude, but it was new to try to talk about it soberly and in a well-lit place.  He really didn’t know what to say, still, even with his  couple of months of therapy, plus all the heart-to-hearts a person could ever want with Eskild.  Jonas had mentioned, then badgered him to talk to someone about all the shit that was freaking him out.  He even threatened to drag him down to Dr. Skrulle’s office, so Isak has relented, and started going to a therapist, Nils, on campus.  

Talking about anything other than Narcos and weed was still so hard.  He just had so much practice at keeping quiet about all the shit in his head; he’d mastered the twin arts of avoiding and lying.  But he was trying to learn new ways to be with his friends.  That’s what he knew Nils wanted, anyway.  It was basically all they talked about every Thursday.

It had been two months already and they were attempting to deal with his habit of avoiding letting people get close to him.  He was, according to Nils, “afraid of intimacy.”  Isak had agreed; he wasn’t trying to let anyone get close to him.  He liked having people to hang with on Fridays and study with after class. Why should he ask more of them when he was such a disaster: bad son, unreliable friend, insomniac, and terrible cook?  Nils had barked with laughter at the last one, which was probably when Isak knew it was going to work out between them.  

Nils couldn’t say it outright, but his job was not to get Isak to be able to connect with people, but to believe that he was worth it.  Isak was still wary--I mean, leaving his mom to fend for herself those few years ago was a dick move. He never stopped feeling guilty about it. But slowly, Isak was realizing that you can change, and make amends, and even let people in and not hurt them.  He had apologized to Mats, and told him he was not ready for more yet.  He had reached out to his mom and they’d had a few tea dates and lots of phone conversations.  And he was actively working on being more open with the boys.  Which brought them here.  To a cafe.  Talking about the hot guy he couldn’t vanquish from his mind.  A guy he first noticed walking out of the mental health services building on campus as he was heading to meet Nils.

He glanced up at his friends and they were nodding, like it was nothing to be discussing the relative attractiveness of other dudes. Isak cleared his throat.  “That has nothing to do with why he’s everywhere now.”  Isak looked back by the pastry case, and he had vanished.  “See, he’s gone now.”

Jonas spread his hands out over the table they were hovering around, nearly knocking all three of their drinks over.  “Dude.  Isak.  He’s not everywhere, you just notice him now.  I mean, he’s what?  8 feet tall?”  Mahdi chimed in.  “At least.”

“Nah, man,” Jonas continued. “You just like looking at him.”

Isak was about to respond with another erudite, “Shut up!” when he was interrupted by the woman at the counter’s shrill voice calling, “Soy Cappuccino, shot of hazelnut syrup, for Even?”  She was annoyed, hip cocked to the left as she looked around the cafe.  As if on cue, rushing out of the bathroom, apparently, came the aforementioned Even, the same giraffe they were just discussing.

_ Even _ .  His name was Even.  Isak looked up to watch him rush toward the door of the cafe, turn his eyes to Isak as his hips hit the door to open it, and then raise his eyebrows in greeting.  After a few seconds, he turned out of the now-ajar door, and was gone.  

“Yo, Isak.  Earth to Isak.”  

Isak turned his eyes to Jonas and sighed.  “Yeah.  Alright.  He’s good-looking.”

 

**43 Minutes Earlier**

**Fredag, October 12, 2018--22:35**

 

“...I know Barack Obama is just another neo-liberal shill beholden to corporate interests, but I always thought he was such a smart guy and maybe, like maybe, he was open to suggestions.  But…” Jonas paused, for the first time in probably 10 minutes, to breathe and take a long drag from the joint he had been swinging around for emphasis. “But I really thought he might actually respond to one of my tweets, especially the one—“

Isak felt a swift elbow to the side and jerked his head toward Jonas.  “What?” he squeaked in surprise, and god, did he hate that squeak.  Would puberty never end?

Jonas looked like he was going to complain about him not listening very well, but then he just sighed.  “Issy…Issy K…is everything alright?” Jonas looked genuinely worried

“Nah, I’m just…” he drifted off, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes..

“Stressed?” Jonas turned his full attention to Isak.  “How’s your mom? Is she doing OK?”

“Well, no, I mean, yes, that’s stressful as hell.”  Isak did not want to talk about his mom at a party while getting high, but Jonas seemed insistent.  He was taking this therapy thing too far, as far as Isak was concerned.

“Fuck, Jonas, she’s doing great.  Too great. The other day, she called me for the fifth time this month and she wanted to know all about my classes.”  Isak sighed, and scrubbed his hands over his face for what felt like the twelfth time that hour.  “She just seems really into it and wondered if I’d chosen a biology specialty yet.  Like, what does she care?”

He turned to Jonas, who was enjoying another hit, and mirrored his turn inward on the couch.  Isak continued, “She also wanted to know if I had been on any dates lately or if she was going to need to ask around her church friends for any available young men.”  Isak chuckled.  He really never thought his mom would be trying to fix him up with dudes.  “She said it just like that: available young men.  I mean, since when do we divulge these things--”

Jonas waved the joint in front of Isak’s face.  “Bro. You’re not high enough.”  Isak scoffed, but took the joint. “You just used the word divulge correctly.  Take a hit.  Now.”

Isak rolled his eyes, but brought the joint to his lips, then paused to look back at Jonas, “You just said beholden, my friend. “  He sucked the smoke into his lungs while turning his most affronted stare onto Jonas.

“Right. And then I took a drag because I realized, _ I am not high enough _ . Keep up, Isak.”  When Isak blew smoke in his face, Jonas only smirked, waved it away, grabbed the joint back, and leaned in conspiratorially. “So. Back to your mom.  Have you?”  He waggled his eyebrows.

“Picked a specialty yet?  Nah. I’m thinking pathology or epidemiology.  Something that involves a lab, but not too much human contact?  But I don’t need to know yet.”  Isak smiled over at Jonas and shook his fingers in the international gesture for gimme the joint, bro.

Jonas hopped down from the back of the couch and passed the quickly diminishing joint to Isak.  “Ha ha, smartass.  I’ll go get some beer.  And then you can tell me about boys.”

“Nope.  I probably won’t.”  

“You will.  You always come to Jonas with the important stuff.”  He was walking backwards toward the kitchen, just dodging the other party-goers.  “You know it, I know it, this ugly dude knows it,” jerking his thumb at the beanie-topped hipster holding up the wall next to the kitchen door. He spun into the kitchen with a little flair and disappeared behind the swinging door.  Unless Jonas bumped into someone more fascinating than his best friend, and that was unlikely, since as far as he could tell Eva hadn’t arrived yet, Isak had about 5 minutes to gather his thoughts about boys, which seemed decreasingly likely the more he partook of the rest of this joint.

As if on cue, Even walked through the door, his plaid shirt and floppy hair making him look like some prototype of a Nordic student.  He offered fist bumps to the kids he knew on the way in, and then unleashed his smile on a woman wildly waving her hands to get his attention just a few couch cushions away from Isak.  The smile transformed him from student to a cross between rock-star and TV host; it goddamned lit up the entire room.  And Isak could not tear his eyes away.

Especially when Even stared back.


	3. After

**71 Minutes Later**

**Lørdag, October 13, 2018--00:29**

 

Even heard Isak’s footsteps following quickly behind him and realized there was no way he could hop on a train before Isak caught up with him; it was just too late at night and they came too infrequently.  He had pivoted sharply down a side street and then another until he was headed directly into Frognerparken, and with his long legs and adrenaline pumping through his veins, it did not take long for him to be at one of the entrances, right next to a kindergarten.  It was tempting, at first, to hop the fence and sit on the swings, but he figured Isak would notice that.  

On he strode, headed straight for the heart of the park, not noticing the roses he usually photographed nor the absence of old people out for a daily stroll.  At night, the park was shockingly still.  The sound of his heartbeat was only interrupted by the occasional jogger or the laughter from a picnic that lingered into the night.  It wasn’t until he noticed the monolith of writhing figures looming ahead that he realized where he was.  

Normally, the sculptures and manicured lawns were peaceful to him, but tonight...  tonight was different. Tonight, the statues’ sinewy forms were frightening to him, glowing yellow under the giant moon and swirling with light mist. He turned his back to them, hopped down the giant curb, and as his shoulders sagged and all the drive to flee left him, he slid down the wall.  His arse hit the ground with a thud, but his arms were around his knees before he even registered the ache. He leaned his forehead against his knees and rocked a little as he counted to 10.  The fountain whooshed behind him, muffling the sounds of people cycling by, but it didn’t help to calm him, like therapists always tried to convince him it would.  The water was just another sound in the city to him, background noise, sure, but not the score to the movie of his life he was always planning. He looked up, once he got to 10, and swiveled his head around, hoping--and then again, not--to see Isak searching for him.

_ Of course he didn’t follow you, Even _ .  His mind was replaying the scene, as if from above, watching Even shove Isak aside and run. He had tried not to see Isak’s face, surely confused and dismayed, but his imagination was filling in the blanks perfectly well.

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to run, although, he wasn’t sure he knew what he needed to say or do differently.  He had run from the miraculously besotted gaze of the boy he had noticed the first week of school, who had been kissing him, who had actually asked him to come home with him.  Even had been ready to go--so ready--but then he froze, terrified.  What could he have said to explain that?

_ Hey, can we slow down?  I’m totally freaking out and wondered if maybe we could leave separately, not hold hands or sit together on the tram, and then not tell anyone about this? _

Yeah, no.  That would have killed Isak’s boner.

_ One time, Isak, I came on to a boy, my best friend, Mikael, and I really thought he liked me, but I guess he didn’t because he pushed me down and then left me in my bedroom to cry.  So, I’m nervous. _

That might have been ok to say, but then how would he get out of saying the rest?

_ So, um, Isak, I’m totally fucked up and the last time I kissed a boy, I downed about a million pills.  No pressure, but, um, are you going to reject me, too? _

What a mess this all was. Even was no good to Isak like this.  Nobody deserved to be with a person who is always freaking out.  Isak did not deserve the stress that is Even’s life, nor the pain he brings to everyone.  Sonja, Mikael, his friends--not to mention his parents--have all suffered.  Mutta is the only one that isn’t afraid of Even. At least they could still play FIFA and laugh about Mutta’s terrible taste in girls together.  Everyone else has been unbearable with their scrutiny.  There’s no need to bring a boy into that, especially not this beautiful boy with the perfect lips.

Even stretched out his legs, noticed that his breathing was back to normal, even though his eyes were undoubtedly red and puffy, and began to try to finagle his hair back into place.  The walk home was long, and he would probably eventually find a tram or a bus, but it was getting late and Even couldn’t make his parents worry anymore than they already did.

 

**4 Days, 19 Hours, 28 Minutes Later**

**Onsdag, October 17, 2018--18:46**

 

Even’s right knee was bouncing on the ball of his foot even as he rested two coffees on his left thigh.  Mikael was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago, and he simply couldn’t contain his nervousness any longer.

He had gotten a text from Mikael ten minutes ago that was filled with apologies and exclamation points, along with a plausible excuse that he had missed his tram and had to wait.  Even knew this could’ve been legitimate; it happened to him every time he tried to get to a class starting before 10:00.  But on a day like today, the sun nearly down and scary conversations on the horizon, it was hard not to indulge in conspiracy theories.  Were the boys cautioning Mikael against meeting Even?  Was he having second thoughts all on his own?

Even had finally texted Mikael to ask to meet the night before.  After spending the whole of the weekend feeling guilty, and scared, and certainly stupid, he settled on angry.  He probably shouldn’t have kissed Mikael all those months ago, and he definitely shouldn’t have come clean to all their friends about what had happened in a rambling group of messages to their Hei Briskeby group chat.  And he definitely shouldn’t have taken all his pills, and some of his parents’, but goddamnit.  What had made this episode, this transgression, so different that the boys gave him the cold shoulder and Mikael virtually stopped communicating with him?  

When Even had been diagnosed, Elias and Mikael had been his rocks.  They didn’t drink much so they were his sober friends at parties They created their goofy youtube channel, in part Even always thought, to give him a really productive outlet for all his energy.  And they always sat by his bed when he was down.  Mutta came around all the time, helping his mom cook and tidy; it was as if he understood that distraction was the only way she would get through Even’s episodes.  None of them ever tracked his weed intake or badgered him about meds; they were just the same as they always were, but more present.  Yousef a little less so, but Even didn’t take it personally.  He was in love with a girl he called his soulmate.  Even, of all people, knew that nothing tears you away from true love.

Or he used to think that.  Until he found himself running away from the most passionate kiss and most mischievous smile he had ever experienced.  Every day since, he marinated in a different emotion.  Sitting on his bed Sunday, he was wracked with sadness; it wasn’t an episode, just heartbreak.  Walking into his first class Monday, he was filled with loneliness, wondering if any of his friends, or any of the milling students around him knew what it was like to watch love slip through your fingers.  

Wednesday morning he was engulfed by guilt as he made his way toward his normal coffee shop.  A couple of doors away, he remembered seeing Isak there and did not want to run into him.  What could he possibly have said to him?  He turned on his heel, sure he would survive his next class uncaffeinated. 

After that afternoon’s seminar on Contemporary Film Movements, his heart turned to anger.  How, he wondered, with all that he knew and believed about love, not to mention the joy of queer life, did he let his friends’ ideas about him stop him from going home with Isak?  Why the fuck did Mikael push him down that night?  And why didn’t he visit Even in the hospital?  That thought, arrived at two tram stops before he got home Wednesday night stopped him in his proverbial tracks.  He was fucking pissed at Mikael.  And so hurt. 

Which led Even here, to a bench in a park, holding lukewarm coffees on an increasingly cold night.  He had written down all he might say in his journal the night before, but much of it was accusatory or foolish.  He thought he had a plan of action, but the waiting was making him doubt.  Maybe he should just go and---

“Hi!”  Mikael was out of breath.  “I am so sorry!  I just got into what I was writing and then looked at the time.  I booked it to the tram stop, but I knew I missed it.”  He looked down briefly, then back at Even.  “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright.  You know I’m never on time.”

“Yes.  Yes, I do know that.”  Mikael smirked and hesitated, like he might say something more, but then just raised his hands and dropped them back to his sides.

“Coffee?”  Even reached a cup out to Mikael.

“I was hoping one of those was for me!  Thanks.”  He grabbed one with both hands, sipping slowly.  

Even nodded to the seat next to him.  “Sit?” As Mikael tucked his feet under himself to sit cross-legged, Even asked, “What were you working on?  

Mikael nodded, swallowing, and said, “It’s a new screenplay--”

“--I mean, or is it top secret?”

They laughed.  Even after barely speaking for a couple of months, they still talked over each other.  

“I mean, not as top secret at Putin v. Captain America, but, you know…”

“Fuck you.  That was awesome.”  Even’s knees began to slow their bobbing, and he remembered filming that stupid video for class. “It’s proving to be rather timely, after all, eh?”

Mikael chuckled and took another sip.

“What’s this one about, Mikki?”

“It’s about friends.”  He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked up. “I guess all great films are about love in one way or another, right?”

Even smiled brightly, and slapped his knee with certainty.  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all these years!”

Mikael nodded, but didn’t respond.  Even noticed that his coffee was nearly gone and what was left was rather cold.  He wanted to start talking about Baz Luhrmann and a hundred films he had watched since they stopped talking.  Specifically, he had watched  _ The Shape of Water  _ a dozen or so times in the last month and wanted to talk about it with someone who cared.  He was just about to ask whether he had watched it again, but when he looked up, Mikael looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“What did you want to talk about, Even?”

Fuck.  Here goes. He wasn’t going to be able to bullshit his way out of this one. “I guess...I miss you.  But also?” He looked at Mikael, who was looking back, nodding a little, “I am really mad at you.  I think I know why you ran after I kissed you, because I was manic and not thinking clearly and you were surprised, but it’s like you just stopped talking to me.  I assume you got all my apologies, so I think you know I’m sorry, and I know I can be a handful.  But why haven’t we ever talked? I felt so stupid.  I guess I thought we would talk about it.” His voice trailed off.  

Mikael was now looking at his lap, tapping the lid of his coffee. Was he going to say anything?

Even continued. “I thought maybe we were falling in love. So I kissed you, which I know now was mania, and I know I should have just talked to you about my feelings for you.  I know I was hard to deal with when I was manic, and then I crashed, hard. And then you ignored me. I was in the hospital but you never visited.”  Shit. Even wasn’t really sure where he was going with all this.  It’s just he missed his best friend and was tired of feeling like he had fucked up irreparably. Maybe he would just tell him that.  He wanted to move past this hurt and to be able to go on a date without thinking he will mess it up.

Mikael finally jumped in. “Even. God, this sucks. I was mad and you were sending all those crazy texts. Then the texts stopped and it’s like you disappeared. I know I should have talked to you, but every time I tried, I think back to the phone call I got from Yousef telling me you were in the hospital.  I fucking freaked out.”  Michael uncrossed his legs and then turned his body toward the path. “Why did you try to kill yourself?  After….that?” He scrubbed his hands across his face.  He looked so pained, like he couldn’t get the words out.

“I didn’t want to die so it would make you upset, Mikael.  Jesus.”  Even was entering uncharted territory.  He had never talked to anyone besides his parents, his therapist and, of all people, Sana about why he tried to do it.  “I was sick.  And I was sad.  All I saw was my parents crying and a future filled with too much of this shit. I didn’t understand why I would want that.”

Mikael was quiet, but looked right back at Even as he took his turn. “I know that. I have learned a little more about bipolar, so I think I understand that you weren’t feeling quite yourself, but you have to know that I felt so guilty.  I was so mad at you for kissing me, for messing up our friendship, not to mention the best filmmaking partnership I could ever imagine, and then while I was pissed and avoiding you, you tried to kill yourself. I thought it was my fault.” Even sucked in a quick breath and shook his head.

“I thought I couldn’t be mad at you because it wasn’t your fault, you were manic and out of control. Because of me.”  Mikael finally looked at Even.  “I didn’t think I could tell you that it sucked you kissed me without asking because I thought it meant it would bring up all your big feelings and I didn’t want to be the person that made you want to die again.”

Even looked back at Mikael, blinking back tears. How could Mikael have ever thought that? “I could never want to die because of you. You make my life better.  And besides, it’s not that simple.  It’s not just that I am a little sad, so, fuck it.”  He took a deep breath.  “It’s more like there is nothing but weight and quiet and shame pushing down on me.”

Even remembers everything about his first night in the hospital.  It was quiet, except for the beeping, and one of his parents kept a hold of his hands the whole night.  And once they let friends in, there was always someone beside him.  He was in and out of sleep, but he was never cold, even if he felt far away.  For the next two days, someone was there with him. But never Mikael.

“Believe it or not,” Even continued, “It was the best thing that ever happened to me.  I mean, not that week or even that month, but now I know it.  I told my parents about being pan, I finally realized that I need to take my meds and fucking deal with bipolar shit, and I found a therapist that helps.  I am stronger now.”  Even realized halfway through the speech that it wasn’t, in fact, bullshit. He and his therapist, Karine, talked about it all the time, but in the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he was full of shit.  Now telling Mikael, he felt like no truer words were said.

So here are more.  “I realized recently that I was really mad that you didn’t come see me in the hospital and that you’ve been really distant ever since that episode. What I didn’t realize was that you were heartbroken, too. I am so sorry I made you feel that way.” He stopped then, because he could hear Karine’s voice saying it wasn’t his fault, that he shouldn’t take responsibility for Mikael that way.  But he need Mikael to know he was sorry.

Mikael let out a sob, and then quickly wiped the tears out of his eyes. “Its OK, Even. You are OK.”  He wiped again at his eyes.  “And I feel terrible, like I have been avoiding all this because I knew how crappy it would feel.”  He looked at Even, more directly than he had all evening. “And I don’t want to lose you.  Ever, OK?”

Mikael turned toward Even, reached out his hand, as if to shake hands, but then shook his head and flung his arms open. “I miss you in my life, bro,” he said as they hugged. “I think I have been scared to get closer to you again, if you might leave me again.”

Even squeezed tight, once more and then let go.  “I  _ am  _ OK, Mik.  I’m not going anywhere. So let’s just stop blaming ourselves and start making movies again?”

“Bet.”  Mikael nodded, and this time they did shake hands.

Even realized he wanted to say one more thing before this was over. “One more thing, since we’re doing this.  Kissing you made me realize I had to talk to people about the fact that I like boys, too.”  He shrugged. “I probably should have just told you about it, but I was scared, because I was with Sonja for so long and worried that you would think I was bullshitting.”  He tried to collect his thoughts. “Anyway, the point is that I’ve met a boy I really like, who seems to like me.  I want to see him more--all the time, actually.  I was telling myself I couldn’t tell you--or him--because I was worried that you and the boys would disapprove. Really, though, I was worried I would lose him like I lost you.”

He sighed.  “I need to talk to him, and I want to be able to talk to you about him.  I need to know if that going to be alright”

He put his empty coffee cup under the bench.  He sat up and started to slide his hands up and down his knees when Mikael grabbed his wrist.

“Christ, Even, why are you always so dramatic?”  He rolled his eyes and shoved his hair out of his face.  “Tell me about this boy.”

Even grinned and flopped back down.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  I want to know.”  Mikael grinned. “But wait!  I, um.”  Mikael paused before looking straight into Even’s eyes.  “I am sorry I called your texts crazy.  I know that’s not cool.  You’re not crazy.”

Even winked.  “Maybe a little.”

  
  


**6 Days, 17 Hours and 27 Minutes Later**

**Fredag, October 19, 2018--16:45**

 

Even had a pretty good idea that Isak took this tram home.  He just hoped that he got on at his normal time.  He’d figured it out after seeing him at his therapist’s office a couple of months ago, when he had left a particularly grueling session and just wanted to get on the back of the tram, put on some music, and space out.  It was either that or cry the whole way home, and Even wasn’t comfortable enough with his emotions for that, for all his talk of toxic masculinity and self-care.  

As he had shuffled to the stop that afternoon, he noticed a red snapback on top of golden curls, on top of long legs walking the same direction, just a few meters ahead.  That kid, Isak, it turned out, leaned against the tram stop and grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket.  As Isak poked around on his phone, Even became mesmerized by his long fingers.  He couldn’t stop staring, even when the tram pulled up and they both got on.

Even actually found a seat in the back row, and actually put his earbuds in, but couldn’t have told you anything about what he listened to that afternoon; all focus was on the beautiful boy that leaned against a pole and chuckled at his phone.  Isak got off a couple of stops before Even, which was a couple of stops too soon, as far as he was concerned, but at least Even had moved on from crying.  Now he had to find out just who this boy was.

It was also at this tram stop that they first spoke.  It was last Thursday, actually.  Therapy was over, and they both walked out of the mental health services building.  This time, instead of trailing behind an oblivious Isak, they walked quietly side-by-side, Isak casting glances his way and Even responding with raised eyebrows.  Isak chuckled, at least Even was pretty sure he had, despite the fact that he had looked down at his shoes, but when they got to the stop, Even reached out his hand and nearly yelled, “Even.”  Isak shook it and said, “I know.”  Even kept hold of Isaks’ hand but shook knitted his eyebrows together in the face of Isak’s blush.  

“You know my friend, Sana.”  Isak grinned.  “She told me your name.”  Isak finally let go of Even’s hand.  He looked into Even’s eyes and said, “She probably noticed me, um, noticing you.”

Even grinned at that.  “Oh, you noticed me?”

“Yeah. You have terrible taste in coffee.”

“What the fuck?  How would you know?”

Isak looked down; “I actually first heard your name at a coffee shop a little while ago.”  Then he looked up again, and stepped closer to Even.  “Hazelnut, Even?  Really?”

Even couldn’t believe his luck.  This beautiful boy was flirting with him.  And after leaving the shrinks’ office, together, no less.  He couldn’t possibly be as fucked up as Even, but maybe he’d be understanding?  Even shrugged, “I like a little sweetness.” He smiled, and before he could stop himself, asked, “What are you doing later?”  It was Friday, after all, but his question was drowned out by the tram that pulled up and spilled out students ready for whatever was on their Friday night agenda.

Even followed Isak up the steps, but it was rush hour, so they were packed in tightly.  Even wanted to tell Isak about the video he saw of Japanese subways at rush hour, with the gloved attendants literally shoving commuters in trains, in near silence, no less.  But he didn’t; how could he have possibly gotten all that out, coherently, amusingly, when all he wanted to do was stare at Isak’s mouth?

Isak stood right next to Even, and Even enjoyed every jostle, but between the announcer and the sheer volume of bodies, they didn’t say much else.  They tried:  Even asked what Isak liked to listen to on his commute to school and Isak giggled that the first song that came up on Even’s phone when he pulled up a playlist was by Gabrielle. But mostly, for three lovely stops, they knocked shoulders and held eye contact for increasingly long periods.

Isak got off at his stop, popular with the after-work crowd, and he was swept away in a wave of people, but he did manage to look back, over all the commuters and shout, “I’m going to a party later, since you asked. Hosted by some Poli-Sci kids.”  He shrugged and was out of sight as the door slid closed between them.

It had taken Even and Elias a couple of hours--and not a few beers--to track down the party in question, with several college gatherings possibly having something to do with the political crowd.  He had needed to string together a few fibs about getting weed and seeing old friends to convince Elias that leaving parties was a good idea.  In the end, they landed at a party in Frogner on much nicer streets than he was used to partying in.  He had a good feeling, though, when he stepped onto the wide porch of a house booming NWA to its neighbors. That feeling, that premonition, proved accurate because Isak was there, planted on the couch. As Even greeted friends from Bakka and his film classes, he noticed Isak couldn’t keep his eyes off of Even.  

That had been a week ago, and it was the longest week Even had experienced since his last episode.  They had kissed, made out gloriously, later that night, but then Even’s brain had turned it all to shit.

“---Even.  Earth to Even?”  

Even looked up, startled by knuckles banging into his shoulder. He looked up from his phone, realized his toe had been tapping on the curb, and  found Sana grinning conspiratorially up at him. Memories of that night disappeared, like smoke rings that someone’s blown out of shape. “Sana!  Hi.”  He swung his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him for a moment.  “Sorry.  Have you been calling me?”

“Nah. Well, not for too long. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Why?  Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so.  Just saying hi.”  She cocked her head to the side, considering.  “Although now that you mention it, would you like to tell me why you have been lurking around my classes and this tram stop for the last couple of days?”  Sana was direct, and always seem to know everything already, so she probably already knew the answer to this question, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for her brand of eye-rolling pep talk.  

“I wasn’t. It must have---”

“Right.  Two months go by and you’ve never been over this way, and now, this week, you’ve been by the Life Sciences labs three separate times?  Try again.”

Even felt foolish.  He had known Sana since before she turned to black as her sole wardrobe hue, including during her hellish years in braces and headgear. She was just a little sister, and Even didn’t need to feel scared.  He grinned a little, though it didn’t feel quite right.  “I’ve been looking for…”

“Isak.  I know.  He’s already gone home.”  She wasn’t laughing, exactly, and he’d never known her to be vicious or interested in inflicting cruelty, so the smile on her face didn’t make sense.  

“Shit.” He clapped his hands together and looked past Sana to the street.  “I just want to apologize.”

“Hmm.”  She looked up at him, and shouldered her backpack, to head to her own bus stop.  “I think it will be well-received, if you can track him down.”  She leaned up to kiss his cheek, which he reciprocated.  “See you around.  Better yet, come by the house.”  She smiled and bobbed her head up and walked past him, with that purposeful, steady stride of hers.  

“Bye, Sana,” Even called after her.  She put up a hand in response but didn’t turn around.

Even shoved his phone, that he now realized he had been turning against his thigh during their entire conversation, in his jacket pocket.

He squinted his eyes as he pulled out a piece of paper he couldn’t remember putting there, though, admittedly, it could have been any flyer for any of a zillion concerts or movie screenings he’s picked up in the last few months.

It wasn’t a flier.  In Sana’s handwriting were Isak’s name, a phone number, and the scrawled command:  _ Call him already; he won’t stop talking about you _ .

 

**6 Days, 20 Hours and 33 Minutes Later**

**Fredag, October 19, 2018--19:51**

 

**To Isak:**

_ Hey.  This is Even. _

_ I really fucked up last week.  Can we meet up so I can apologize properly? _

 

**From Isak:**

_ Yes. _

_ KB, Markveien at 20:00? _

_ Sana says there will be grovelling? _

 

Isak’s response had been instant.  Which had been unexpected.  And now Even was ten minutes early for a chance to make things right, to do things differently, and hopefully, kiss Isak again. And again.

Ordering a jitter-inducing drink was probably not the way to go.  Alas. “One soy cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, please. And one large black coffee, whatever your darkest roast is.”


	4. Epilogue

**THEN**

**7 Days, 1 Hour and 50 Minutes Later**   
**Lørdag, October 20, 2018--1:08**

“I can’t believe you just ran the fuck out of there!” Isak was laughing with a full-throated giggle and a wide smile. They were laying on Isak’s bed in the apartment he shared with old friends. It was messy and warm, tangled up in Isak’s duvet. Isak tried to catch his breath, not unlike last week, now that Even thought about it. “I have never been scary to anyone in my life, Even. What the fuck.” He kept giggling, but he returned to laughing after Even’s hand, which had, just a few minutes ago, been gently running up and down Isak’s side, began scrabbling at the spot in Isak’s waist that sent him back into uproarious laughter.

They had laughed--and kissed--a lot over the course of the night, starting at McDonald’s, then traipsing through a bookstore that used to be a movie theater, but was, unfortunately hosting a poetry open mike, and finally on their long walk to Isak’s flat. They didn’t plan to go there, but they couldn’t decide what to do next, but didn’t want to end their night. So they just decided to walk. Isak had insisted they hold hands, so it didn’t matter where they ended up, as far as Even was concerned.

“I love hearing you laugh,” Even chuckled, as he renewed his attack on Isak’s side. Isak attempted to slide away from the attack, but was stopped in his tracks by a swift thud from the wall to the hallway, and a “Shut up, you two! Some of us are not getting lucky tonight and are trying to get our beauty sleep!” In response, their hands flew to their mouths and Isak’s face into Even’s chest.

“Shit, Eskild. Sorry!” Isak turned his cheek to yell back at his roommate. They waited for a moment until they heard his slippers shuffle down the hall.

“Jesus, he always talks about himself in the third person. But that, that was the royal We. ‘We are trying to get our beauty sleep.’” He sighed and snuggled back into Even’s side. “I’m glad he’s here, though. He’s always looked out for me.”

There was silence after that, though not as heavy as the silence that hovered between them at KB a few hours ago.

Isak had been right on time for their apology coffee, but Even’s ten minute wait had sent him into a panic, perhaps spurred by the caffeine he had already downed. He ordered a mint tea, so it didn’t look like he had been sitting there mainlining coffee for the last 10 minutes, but even the quick walk to the counter and steaming mug of tea couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing. Even would probably have been better off doing this while walking through a park or at least sitting outside, but Isak has said yes, and he reminded himself that was all that mattered.

Actually, that’s what made Even so nervous. Isak said yes, and he said it quickly. Was he ready to forgive or ready to chew Even out? And what had Sana told him? What was Even going to say to Isak? These questions were racing around his mind, one taking the lead for a little while, until another passed on the inside lane of the track of his thoughts, taking his attention, until they were all vying for the finish line. Of course, if Even had known how the evening would go, he could have been planning a romantic date, but instead, he was imagining himself tripping on his on words trying to tell Isak everything but not too much.

“Ahem.” Isak cleared his throat--Even tried to squelch his yelp--and reached for the coffee. “This is for me, I suppose?” Even nodded up at him, unable to come up with any words. He used his foot to kick the chair across the table out, and nodded at it. Isak sat, and brought the coffee up to his mouth. He stopped before he took a sip and cut his eyes at Even. “Wait. There’s no caramel or hazelnut or coconut whipped cream in here is there?”

Even chuckled. “No. Of course not.” Even began to think Isak was not as mad as Even was expecting. Maybe this would be ok. Maybe this wouldn’t be the rerun of his talk with Mikael that he was fearing. “Just black coffee, darkest roast I could buy,”

Isak took a sip. “Mmm. Thank you.”

“Well, I did slip a shot of raspberry cordial in there…”’

Isak looked like he might spit out the coffee. But then he just smiled. “You’re joking.” He took another big swig. “You’re joking. You’re here to apologize, but you’re joking. About coffee, of all sacred things.” He put the coffee down and folded his hands together on the table. “See, this is what I thought was happening last week. We flirted, and you were into it. And then you just ran. What the fuck happened?”

“I. God.” Even tapped his fingers against his mug. “I’ve had such a weird last few months and----”

“Wait. Sana told me some stuff. First, she called me out for moping and I admitted to her that there was a guy I really liked and that it was all fucked up.” He looked up at Even. “And then she said that some lovesick dude was hanging around our classes and that I should just give him another shot.”

“Sana. She’s always been smarter than everyone.” Even chuckled. Isak nodded. “Is she why you decided to come here?”

Isak nodded, then cut his eyes sharply. “And it was fun kissing you.”

Just like that, Even knew he was not there to get yelled at.

“Anyway.” Isak continued, still grinning but trying to be serious, as well. “I don’t know all your shit, because she said that only you can decide what to tell me.” He took a deep breath. “And she’s right. You don’t really have to tell me everything, just, I want to know why you left last week.” Isak was looking nervous, when he should be looking mad and Even thought this was the best sign of all. Isak picked up his coffee and leaned back in his seat. “I guess you don’t need to tell me that, either, but it made me sad. And confused.” He took a sip of his coffee and then looked at Even, wide-eyed.

“Isak. I really like you. I noticed you during the first couple of weeks of school.” Even leaned forward. “And kissing you was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever had a better first kiss.” Isak raised his left eyebrow. “I mean, it’s not that I’ve had so many kisses or anything, I just….It was really nice kissing you.” Even let out a big breath.

“The thing is, I’ve never been with a boy, and the last time I kissed a guy, it started a big mess with my friends and..well...it was a bad scene I am still recovering from.” Even didn’t know where to go next, but Isak was just looking at him, nodding, and saying nothing. “That’s actually why I started going to the therapist at school.” He nodded backwards, as though the tram stop was back there. “That’s where I saw you first, at her office. I’ve needed to deal with some shit--I need to deal with some shit. Still. Probably always.” His tea was cooling in his hands, so he took a sip, unsure where his train of thought was taking him.

Isak very quickly whispered, “I know. I go there to deal with shit. That’s where I saw you, too.”  
Even had a lot more questions, and was eager change the subject to Isak, but Karine was always telling him to stop avoiding things. He might as well blurt it all out. “So that night we were kissing. It was good, and then I thought one of my friends might have seen me, and I didn’t want to have to deal with his judgement and then I worried that I was making a big mistake because I am such a wreck; I wasn’t sure I was ready for a relationship. Which….God that is presumptuous. I don’t think we are in a relationship now, I know we just met.” Even stopped. He was rambling. He needed to get to the point.

“And then you basically invited me back to yours, the boldest move anyone has ever made on me. And my brain just couldn’t handle it. If you found out how messed up I am, you wouldn’t want to know me. Why would you?”

Isak had been nodding a lot and definitely wasn’t getting up to leave, but Even couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He opened his mouth to keep talking, but stopped when Isak put down his coffee.

Isak scrunched his face up and asked, “So, you were worried that people would see you kissing another boy and it would be hard? Like homophobia and all that?” He waved his hand in front of his face. “I don’t know, Even, that seems pretty normal. That’s part of what I talk to my shrink about, that and all sorts of other shit, but I don’t know why you think that makes you super messed up. It took me years to tell my friends I was gay. And I knew they probably wouldn’t be jerks.” He huffed. “Or any more than usual.”

Even sighed. Like so many things he says, it didn’t seem that big out loud, and he could just let it go, but Isak didn’t know about his bipolar or his suicide attempt. And Even wasn’t sure what to tell him about that, but he didn’t think he should let Isak believe it was just a little homophobia-related nervousness. “I know. I know. I freaked out because kissing you was so perfect. And you are so gorgeous. So smart. And I...I make life hard on people because, um. Because I have bipolar and sometimes I do stupid shit to people I love.” Fuck. He told him.

Isak stopped his nodding for a minute, his eyes for just a second blinking more than normal. He tapped the side of his cup. “Ok. So bipolar. I don’t know very much about it, and I can Google it or you can tell me or whatever. But I have one question: Is kissing contraindicated?” He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. “Or shit. Does that mean you will run away everytime we kiss? Because that seems exhausting.”

Even leaned forward. “Look at you with those big medical words. Contraindicated.” He whistled.

Isak leaned closer as well, their now cooled mugs clinking when the the table trembled under their weight. “Well, you know I am going to be a doctor or at least work in medicine. So I am the master of doctor jargon.”

Even laughed, ready to suggest they head out to get food, you know, continue this conversation over dinner. But he still had one thing left to say. “I’m so sorry, Isak. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. My friends say I can be awfully dramatic and--

Isak’s mouth stopped his apology. His lips were soft, as he had recalled every night this week, and Even could barely stop his hand from reaching up to Isak’s neck, but he pulled back. “It’s OK,” Isak whispered. “And I would like to hear more, if you want to tell me. I probably have a lot to tell you, too.” He leaned his head to knock against Even’s forehead and took a deep breath. “But not now. Now I want to kiss you again. Can we get out of here?” Isak grinned and stood up.

This time, Even nodded and took Isak’s outstretched hand after they slipped on their coats.


End file.
